We Are Not Ourselves
by DevilinaCardigan
Summary: "The definition of insanity is doing the same thing repeatedly while expecting different results. It's funny, Mika would call that being tenacious." Mika/Raizo *Complete*
1. Tightrope

_Author's Note: I just saw Ninja Assassin not too long ago and got the idea for this series. It will contain complete one-shots with varying ratings but it'll be M overall so make sure to check. I also need to thank Viennacantabile, my fabulous beta, for all her help and I hope everyone reads, enjoys and replies!_

* * *

**We Are Not Ourselves: Tightrope**

* * *

Three months after the fall of the Ozunu clan, Raizo still gets up at five A.M. He still does two thousand crunches every morning, runs four miles, practices his weaponry and mediates, all before Mika rises for work.

She asks him why, sometimes. Why he can't seem to relax when _they're all dead_ and _there's no one after him now__,_ and he can't find it in himself to correct her. She doesn't understand just how deep Ozunu's influence went, and still goes, in some very dangerous circles, and when it gets down to it, he doesn't really want her to.

Mika still believes in abstract concepts like justice and fairness and bad people eventually getting their due when everything in Raizo's life has led him to discern otherwise. He doesn't tell her that though. He doesn't say that there are other clans. That there are other ninjas and other leaders who, though they may enjoy Ozunu's absence, won't be too happy with the example he's set for their own followers.

He doesn't tell her because he doesn't want her to change. He doesn't want her to revert back to the scared woman she was when he met her and because he likes to look at her and pretend—every now and then—that she's right.

Instead, he tells her he'll try to unwind more. That he'll enjoy his new life but he still gets up before the sun rises. He still runs, he still practices, he still scans every face he passes on the street because he's got more than himself to look after now.

Raizo cannot lose his edge.

-0-

Men look at her.

She's bent on one knee, tying her shoe, with the white stick of a strawberry sucker nestled in the corner of her mouth when Raizo notices one such man. They're in the park—she's got the day off, he's on lunch break from his job as a clan liaison at Europol—and he notices the man when the man notices them. Raizo gives the guy, who's standing around thirty meters in front of them, a withering glare that he's almost certain he won't be able to make out from this distance.

It's not like he hasn't noticed that Mika's a beautiful woman. The clan had been able to beat a lot of things out of him but noticing a pretty girl hadn't been one of them. He can see why these men do it but that doesn't mean he has to like that this same situation occurs every time they leave the house.

When he considers it further, Raizo doesn't even think it's the looking itself that bothers him. It's the _intent_. Whereas men—like the one staring slack-jawed at her now—see Mika and think things Raizo can't bring himself to guess at, his own appreciation of her beauty has almost always been somewhat clinical.

The memory of them in a hotel room crosses his mind suddenly and makes him frown.

"What's up?"

He'd been aware of her finishing and standing up next to him but he only turns toward her when she speaks. He smiles—just a little—and throws an arm around her shoulders. She beams at his touch and that sort of makes him want to frown again and squeeze her tighter at the same. He makes his face completely neutral.

"Nothing much."

She scoffs. "Now that I don't believe."

He laughs and then he does squeeze her shoulders. He doesn't know why he didn't do it when the idea first crossed his mind. There's nothing wrong with it because they're friends and this is what friends do, right?

He's not sure. He's never really had one before.

-0-

When he tells her he's never been to Paris—he actually has, but it was on business he'd rather not speak of with her anymore—her eyes widen and she falls across the end of his bed thoughtfully.

He thinks of it as his bed but it's in her guestroom, the one he'd been able to afford leaving two months after he'd moved in but she hasn't brought it up and so he doesn't either.

"We should go."

The thought of them walking down some nameless Parisian back alley is strangely appealing and the fact that he wants it is distressing.

Raizo shouldn't _want_ anything.

"Hey," she calls, eyeing him curiously. "Did you hear me?"

"I can't," he starts, and hurriedly moves to finish when she opens her mouth to speak. "My job."

He sees her accept his reasoning and narrow her eyes in thought as she rolls onto her back. The white tank she's wearing rides up and he can see the slight pillow of flesh on her lower abdomen. The skin on the back of his neck tightens and he feels flushed but her face shows no sign of understanding when she lets her head fall to the side to take him in.

She not only doesn't see what's happening because he's not easy to read, but also because she doesn't really pay close attention to anything outside of her books. He imagines it's how she was before he showed up in her life and her face was always inched in worry. Mika's obliviousness scares him but it's a good sign too. It means she's leaving his world and going back to her own.

She toes her tennis shoes off. "Well, how about the movies, then?"

He nods, and that night they sit in a darkened theatre watching something he doesn't really pay attention to. She's smiling a lot and every now and then she jumps and grabs his arm in glee. He can smell her perfume—something light as linen—and even though he's staring at the screen all he can remember afterward is her.

-0-

His eyes pop open at the smell of bacon and he walks out of the room to see Mika up and about. She smiles at him.

"I beat you this morning."

-0-

He calls her name from the doorway and narrows his eyes when she doesn't answer.

Mika's here, he knows she is because her car's in the lot and her messenger bag is in the same spot by the door where she always drops it. He listens for a moment and hears something coming from her bedroom. Raizo moves across the floor quickly and pushes her door open without a sound, looks across the room to see the back of Mika's head as she lies back in her tub. She hadn't answered him because a pair of headphones are resting in her ears.

He sighs, frustrated by her unmindful behavior because he could've been anyone, but that's why he's here, right? So she doesn't have to worry about such things. He relaxes his stance and lets his eyes linger on her neck and shoulders, the only skin visible above the lip of the tub. Her left arm is curled up under her head and her hair is up in a banana clip. He finds himself studying the curve of her ear and laughs ruefully. He's about to step out when he turns back.

Her breathing has changed slightly. It's deeper than it was a moment before and he steps closer. He's worried but there's something else under it, something he vaguely recognizes. Mika turns toward him and Raizo gets ready to disappear if need be but her eyes are screwed shut and he risks staying still. Her mouth opens on a gasp and the sound sends a spiral of heat shooting up his spine. He can't see her right hand but he knows exactly where it is.

Back when he was growing up, getting caught in any sort of sexual situation was grounds for a punishment that—after seeing one person suffer through it—had been enough of a deterrent for him to last a lifetime. Raizo doesn't know exactly how he feels about what he's seeing but he knows he shouldn't be here, he shouldn't be watching this and he should be leaving this room right _now_ but she's biting her bottom lip and he can't move.

She sinks a little further into the bath and he's disappointed until she pulls her leg up and dangles it over the tub's edge. He sees that her toenails are a soft, baby pink because Raizo notices everything but his eyes are focused on her face now. She looks like she does when she's got a lead on something, focused, and he realizes he's so hard he feels dizzy.

He grips the doorjamb tight enough to break it, listens as she starts to gasp for breath and then she 's coming and this is when his legendary grace fails him. He almost smashes into the door in his haste to get out of the room.

-0-

He's sitting at the breakfast table with his computer when she finally flits out of her room in a robe. She smiles when she sees him and he smiles back as she pours herself a glass of orange juice and disappears out of the kitchen. She comes back a moment later with some books and sits across from him. They work quietly for awhile and he almost thinks he can forget it. That he can pretend he never saw anything at all.

Then she puts her right hand on his shoulder and asks, "Are you all right?" He has to force himself to look away from it.

"Fine."

His voice sounds tight to his own ears.

-0-

He begins to rise at five A.M. again every morning. He does two thousand crunches every morning, runs four miles, practices with his weaponry, and meditates, all before Mika rises for work. There are days though, when he finds himself thinking about skin, warm and smooth, or of slanting his mouth over lips parted on a moan, or of a damp leg skidding along the rim of a bathtub, and on those days he gets up an hour earlier, meditates longer, runs further, and works harder.

He's got more than himself to look after now.

Raizo cannot lose his edge.


	2. Try, Try Again

_Author's Note: I have to, once again, thank Viennacantabile for all her help. I wouldn't be able to do it without you! I also want to thank everyone who has read, favorited and, especially, those who have replied. You're all awesome. I hope everyone reads, enjoys and replies!_

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**We Are Not Ourselves: Try, Try Again**

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Mika's been called many things: relentless, single-minded, obsessive…In her line of work, these are all compliments.

-0-

She'll never forget the look on Ryan's face as she tells him she's bringing Raizo home with her. He tries to talk her out of it and, when that doesn't work, he tries to reason with her. He says things like _he's a wild animal_ and _you_'ll _never be able to trust him _and _he'll never be normal, not really._

Mika turns to stare out the window at that—arms crossed—and pretends not to hear.

-0-

They like to play a game.

Whenever they go to a grocery store or to a department store or whenever she can drag Raizo to the mall, Mika will slip away. Disappear back into the teen department or the dressing rooms or the appliance section and time how long it takes him to find her. Not very is usually the answer. She rarely makes it two feet before his eyes are on her but, sometimes, she can vanish almost as well as he can.

Those are the days she likes best.

-0-

Eight months and some weeks after he moves in, Mika corners him in their hallway, stands on tiptoe and angles her mouth over his. The kiss is short and she doesn't give him time to react to it because she's afraid he won't.

Raizo doesn't disappoint.

Afterward his face is stony and, if it wasn't for the slight tint of red gloss at his lips, she could almost believe she'd never kissed him at all.

For a little while after that, she sort of hates him.

-0-

Mika has never thought of herself as a glutton for punishment but when she blurts out "I want you to come to Paris with me" one afternoon four months later, she begins to rethink that position.

He's in the middle of working out when he stops and stares at her face before he says something surprising.

"All right."

Mika smiles and lets out a sigh. She hadn't realized she was holding her breath.

-0-

She hadn't planned on asking him today and it shows. They only realize they'll be visiting on Bastille Day after they've already called off work and every hotel has been booked months in advance.

She buckles down then and an hour later hits pay dirt, reserves a room in a small bed and breakfast-type place with one picture on its she gets two overnight train passes. It'll be uncomfortable sitting straight up in an itchy chair for twelve hours straight, but she's happy as she calls a taxi.

They pack and leave for Paris the very next day.

-0-

At first she thinks they're at the wrong building and asks Raizo to question their driver. She could've asked herself; Mika can speak passable French, but—as she'd been surprised to find out when they caught a cab into the city— he's fluent.

She doesn't turn to watch him walk away, but looks over the hotel instead. The window planters filled with blooming begonias in the photo are half overgrown and half dead when she sees them in person and the charmingly aging building looks more dilapidated than anything else.

She hears the car drive away and when she turns, Raizo is directly behind her. Her heart jumps in her chest; she hadn't heard him move and she thinks maybe he did that on purpose.

"This is it," he states flatly, and grabs her bag before they walk in.

The place looks like an upgraded hostel, with private sleeping quarters and a floor bathroom. Their room is…nice. Two small twin beds that she has her doubts Raizo will be comfortable enough to sleep in take up the center of the room. There's one window on the far wall with a dresser beneath and no TV, but at least it's clean.

She grabs her suitcase and barely sits it down before he picks it up and moves it to the bed furthest from the door. She guesses he thinks it's safer that way and it needles her for some reason. Most of his clan is dead and those that aren't are in the wind, and she doesn't think they'd risk their freedom to come after her.

She doesn't need him to protect her.

Mika's started to smoke every now and then since that first cigarette when they met and now her fingers twitch with the desire for one. She notices him watching her intently and she makes herself stop moving. He'd probably already known- had probably smelled it on her and gone down to the corner store to delicately _question_ the cashier on what she was there picking up- but the fact that she can't have a secret when he refuses to share that he can speak French until they're already in France agitates her even more.

She crosses her arms over chest and stares at the wall before turning to him quickly; he's already standing when their eyes meet.

"How about we go for a walk?"

-0-

As soon as they're out the door she feels better and when they come across a small patisserie on the same block as their hotel she starts to remember why she wanted to come here in the first place.

Mika stares at the display case, finally settles on something thick and chocolatey, and—after trying it—offers him a taste as a peace offering.

He wants to beg off, she can tell by the minute changes in his demeanor, and it strikes her that, not so long ago, she would've missed them.

"Come on," she goads, and coyly looks up at him from under her lashes. "We're strangers in a strange land."

He stares down at her and something about where they are or the look on his face or a mixture of both makes her want to pull him close and whisper _We don't ever have to go back, you know_ into his ear.

She wants to say…she wants to say so many things, but she doesn't.

Then he leans forward and takes the bite, licks the spoon clean, and she wishes she did but she doesn't care either way anymore.

-0-

On their last day, Mika and Raizo go to the Eiffel Tower and lay out a blanket to celebrate Bastille Day. An older lady next to them shares her food and Mika watches screaming children dart between the blankets with ice cream covered faces. She drinks too much champagne and ends up falling asleep.

She misses the fireworks.

Later she jerks awake and the park is dark and deserted. She rubs her eyes and looks at Raizo's profile—he's leaning back on his elbows with his feet crossed at the ankles and there's just enough moonlight for her to make out that smirk he gets when he wants to laugh at her but won't—as he gazes up at the sky.

"You're ready?" he asks without looking in her direction and she moves to sit up. She wonders how long he sat there, waiting for her, as she straightens out her dress and nods yes, she's ready.

She stands and he folds their blanket before handing it to her. He puts his hands in his pockets as they slowly walk home, barely grazing sides.

-0-

He wakes up as soon as her foot hits the floor.

She hadn't made any noise and neither had he but they're both aware of the other now. They're both waiting to see who moves first and it's her, it's always her. She shuffles across the small space between their beds and sits on the edge of his. Her hand hovers over his naked back and she can feel the heat rising from his skin. Their hotel, like many places, doesn't have AC and she hesitates before she lets it land, tries to avoid the cars they never talk about.

"You were making noise in your sleep."

"I'm sorry if I woke you," he mutters, and she shakes her head before she realizes he can't see her and speaks.

"No, it's fine. Do you want a glass of water or…"

She lets the question trail off as he tenses under her touch.

"That's fine. I don't need anything."

She stares at the back of his head and licks her lips without responding, rubs her damp forehead before walking to the window and pulling it open. Their view of the alley below blesses them with a strong breeze that smells faintly of garbage but it's cool and they'll take what they can get.

When she turns back toward him he's staring down at his hands but he wasn't always. There's no way she should know this but Mika would bet her life he'd just been looking at her. She nervously runs her thumbs along the elastic waistband of her sleep shorts as she walks to him and sits back on the edge of his bed.

She doesn't know what she's doing (_he'll never be normal, not really) _and something tells Mika that this is probably a very bad idea but she puts her hand on his forearm and slides it up so she can cradle the side of his neck.

He doesn't move, doesn't lean in or out of her touch, just watches impassively as she climbs to her knees on the mattress. She brings his hand up and runs her lips against the tender skin of his wrist, feels his pulse flutter erratically before she drops it. He can pretend to be unmoved but his body is betraying him.

She can hear him breathing as she reaches a leg over him to straddle his thighs and slowly lowers herself against him. Mika glides closer and notches her hips against his own. He can't stop it then; Raizo shivers and she likes it. She likes the red flags of color painted high on each of his cheeks, she likes that she can pull emotions from him that he'd rather keep under wraps and that she's got a man who could kill everyone in the building without anyone noticing trembling between her thighs.

After that, he's stoic once again and Mika can't read him. He doesn't raise his arms to touch her back or even act like there's a woman straddling him. She wonders, not for the first time, about his life before. She's pretty sure he's got ninety percent of the world beat when it comes to messed up childhoods—daddy never hugging you doesn't quite measure up against being a genuine child soldier—but she doesn't want to assume anything.

She knows that he can't be a virgin, it's impossible, but he's never been with anyone in the year she's known him, at least she doesn't think so, and the idea that maybe he has—that he's kept it from her—makes her grip his shoulder a little harder than necessary.

She's angry, suddenly. Angry with him for making her do all the work, for making her like him, for being so fucked up, and she decides then that she's going to break him. That she's going to _make_ him react.

She rocks her hips forward gently, his jaw clenches and that one reaction is equal to moan when it comes to him. She does it again, harder, and this time his hands contract like a reflex. His eyes are hazy by the third time and by the fourth he's dragged his palms up to her waist. He looks frustrated—whether it's by her movements or his inability to ignore them altogether is up for discussion—and it makes her smile.

Let him try to stay quiet. She'll bet anything that he won't be able to.

She crosses her wrists behind his neck and leans in close, mouth hovering over his as she moves to tilt her hips for a better angle. His pajama pants aren't much of a barrier and she can feel him hard beneath her. Mika twists her hips a little to the left and—oh_ yes_—that's it.

The motion seems to work for him as well; he gasps quietly, pulls her closer and she smirks into his they're getting somewhere. His hands slide from her waist slowly and become bold. He skims one over her ribcage, barely hesitates before covering her breast. He circles her areola with a thumb, goes further and gently tugs a taut nipple. She doesn't wear a bra to bed and his touch through her thin tank is almost as good as being to skin to skin—almost—but not really.

She pushes into him, finally lets their lips touch sweetly for only the second time and he slumps forward on a groan. He's no longer trying to hold anything back to save her from himself or whatever he thought he was doing for her benefit and she decides to stop punishing him for it.

She reaches between them and rubs the length of him expertly, kisses him until she's lightheaded and he comes against her with a low, whining sound she'd never imagined he could make.

Now Mika knows a secret about him too.

She pulls back a little and lets him rest for a moment. The room is uncomfortably warm, her hair is sticking to her neck and her shirt is plastered to her back but she has more important things to think about. They can go rinse off later.

He looks up after he catches his breath and this time he kisses her. It's softer than what she'd like but she doesn't try to deepen it. He slips a hand behind her neck, licks her bottom lip and she lets his tongue slip against hers, starts to rock against him again. He moves his other hand from her waist, runs a finger along the elastic edge of her shorts.

She wants to let him go at his own pace but she ends up pushing his hand between her legs because she can't wait anymore. She guides him in what she likes before letting him take the lead. He strokes her tentatively through two layers of damp clothing and she wants to pull him free. Wants to slide against him skin to skin but she'd gone off birth control after a year of celibacy and they had no protection.

They have to make this work and it shouldn't be enough but it is.

She folds herself into him, pulls away from his mouth and presses her face into the hollow where his shoulders curve into his neck and grinds against his palm without finesse. He caught on quickly to which motions she likes best and starts to experiment with new ones. Presses into her harder and Mika grabs the headboard behind his head, stills, and comes on a strained exhale.

She stares at the wall behind them—feeling languorous—as she tries to catch her breath. She wants to lie down but her mind won't calm down. She needs to think, needs to come up with the right thing to say at a moment like this when he starts to laugh.

He doesn't do that much but, when he does, it's usually cautious, like he's testing the way the sound tastes in his mouth, or bitter, like he's trying something that shouldn't have been 's different this sounds bubbles up from somewhere deep in his belly and comes out full-throated, on the edge of hysterical. She stares at him, hidden in darkness, half-afraid and half-mesmerized with a smile.

He looks more human at this moment than she's ever believed he could be.

He quiets, finally, and stares back before pulling her into a hug and holding her so tight she can barely breathe.

-0-

They're almost late for their train home but he grabs her hand as they run across the platform and propels her forward, and they make it just in time.

He stows their luggage while she squeezes into the tiny restroom at the far end of the car. and when she comes back he's staring out the glances at the side of his face before sitting down.

They haven't talked about what happened at the hotel and she wonders if she should speak up, if she should make the first move. But this time, she decides to just let it be.

-0-

They don't speak for the entire journey and when they get home—after he checks the house for someone waiting in the wings and finds nothing—he disappears into his room without a word. She stares at his door for a moment and thinks, _the definition of insanity is doing the same thing repeatedly while expecting different results_ before going over and knocking.

It's funny, Mika would call that being tenacious.


	3. Don't Fool Yourself

_Author's Note:This is unbeta'd and just might be my last foray into this fandom. It's definitely my last entry into this series. I want to thank everyone who replied to me and I hope you all read, enjoy and reply to this last entry! _

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**We Are Not Ourselves: Don't Fool Yourself**

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After Paris, there's no going back to what they used to be.

She knows.

-0-

Mika wants him to be normal. She's never said it but he knows she does so Raizo decides to practice his facial expressions in the oval mirror above his face bowl every morning.

For_ uncertain_: He raises his eyebrows a little. For _sad_: He lowers his chin. For_ happy_: He smiles so wide it just skirts the edge of crazy.

Interestingly enough, it's _anger_ he has the most trouble showing. It was one of the first emotions the Ozunu tried to scrub from their assassins' brains. Angry men got sloppy, angry men failed their missions and dishonored their clans because they allowed feelings to get the better of them. He'll never forget the proof of it after his loss to Takeshi. Nothing could've driven Ozunu's point home better.

He starts to memorize other men's faces from the movies they see and he tries to imitate their expressions. Lips pulled back from their teeth in a growl, nostrils flared, eyes narrowed but none of it looks right. Not for the first time, he thinks he should just leave. Pack his things up and disappear while she's asleep or at work or on the phone. It would be easy, it would be safer for the both of them, it would be for the best.

He thinks of a big man dying bloody in a bathroom, of shoving a girl into a washing machine, of slicing so many ninja's he no longer knows his body count . He looks into the mirror and tries to feel something about that. _Regretful_—lips slightly pouty, _ashamed_—eyes downcast, _proud_—chin up and eyes challenging but he comes up empty. He doesn't feel anything about their deaths because they were all carried out emotionlessly. He'd been like a machine, all reaction with no reason.

He hears her come into the front door and when she calls his name from the foyer, he squeezes the rim of the sink until his knuckles are white. He knows then that he won't be going anywhere.

The one emotion he's been most successful at achieving is selfishness.

The first time he sees her completely naked is a Tuesday afternoon six months after their trip and almost two years after they first met.

He keeps his eyes open the entire time.

Studies how she moves and what she likes, learns that a gasp is good and a bitten lip is bad and that this is nothing like what he's experienced before. He's used to a mutually beneficial act before finding the nearest exit. Raizo had been taught that sex was an extraneous biological desire. Something you did when necessary before moving on to more important endeavors.

Now that Mika's lying under him, eyes screwed shut and legs wrapped tightly around his hips, he can't think of a matter more in need of his attention. He figures out that she likes to be teased even though she says she doesn't by how wet she gets when all he does is rock inside of her. By the way her body clutches and sucks at him, by the way she spreads her knees and tries to get him to _just start moving_ when he refuses to speed up.

He discovers that he likes it best when she's on top and rides him hard, when she squeezes his shoulders so tightly he carries marks in the shape of her fingers afterward. He knows he should heal them immediately—the last thing he needs is any sort of identifying mark. Anything that could catch someone's attention—but he likes to feel their dull heat as he walks throughout the Europol offices. As he attends meetings and types write-ups and gets dressed for work the next day only to have her help him get undressed later that night.

He stares at the skin on the back of her neck afterward and rolls onto his side to spoon against her naked back. In his previous occupation, it was Raizo's job to find the weak points of his opponents and exploit them. He reaches around her prone body, scrapes his nail across her nipple lightly and watches it harden with flatly curious eyes.

He doesn't think sex is much different.

-0-

She's started to tell him about her past. How hot and dry Arizona was, about summers in Florida and how she needed twelve stitches when she cut her foot trying to outrun the train that ran through the woods behind her grandmother's house.

He already knew most of what she was sharing, it was easy to find information on her, too easy, but he's already taken care of that and he loves to listen to her speak of home. To hear the cadence and inflections in her voice change as she says words like _Mom_ and _Dad_ and _Grandma_.

-0-

Mika likes to play a game.

Whenever they go to a grocery store or to a department store or whenever she can drag Raizo to the mall, she'll try to slip away from him. He knows she's begun to chafe underneath his unflinching gaze so—when he's got other business to attend to—he'll let her think she has.

Today, he's got his arm across the chest of his _other business_ in the second floor mens restroom. His shirt's sticking to his back with sweat and there's blood trickling from a shallow cut at her temple that would've been a killing blow if she hadn't been able to twist away from him at the last minute.

"How long have you been shadowing me," he asks dispassionately.

She laughs and with one practiced move, he pulls her arm from it's socket. She lets out a shuddering breath and he continues. "I'll ask again, how long have you been shadowing me?"

"Long enough, I know you work for Europol, I know about the little hole in the wall bakery you buy croissants from on your way to work and about your favorite club to visit on Saturday nights."

He doesn't react to the realization that she's been trailing them for weeks without him picking up on it or _how_ it's even possible that he could let such a thing happen. _Because Mika makes you weak_, he thinks. _Because sparring three days a week at the gym is a poor substitute for fighting another ninja, for fighting another predator. _

He shakes the thoughts off and she leans her head back against his chest. If someone were to see them now, that person might think they were lovers. "I even know that little startled sound she makes when you push inside of her. "

He moves so quickly he doesn't even realize he's doing it until the woman's wrist is broken. She grunts in pain, he brings his knee up into her side and hears the sickening crunch of ribs breaking. This is all muscle memory to him. No matter how out of practice he gets, he'll never be able to fully forget.

She spits out blood and laughs with a wheeze. "Do what you want to me. I won't be the last visitor you'll have to receive." She looks back over her shoulder with a smile, her mouth black with gore. "We'll be seeing y—"

He snaps her neck before she can finish, drags her into a stall and sits her on the toilet seat. He's got to get out of here, right now. He exits the stall, washes his hands quickly and splashes water on his face. He straightens his shirt and gingerly touches the bruise on his side from when she surprised him with a punch to his kidneys. He won't have time to heal it here. He approaches the door and listens carefully before walking through calmly and spotting Mika not five yards away.

"I was wondering where you were." She whispers and walks toward him with a smile. She likes to pretend that their separations are incidental and though he doesn't understand her reasons, he respects them."We got separated."

"I guess we did."

She wraps her arm around him, jostling his wound and sending a starling bolt of pain up through his body. He smiles back and pulls her into his arms, doesn't even flinch.

-0-

She's lying on her back, damp with sweat, naked and dully lit up by the crescent moon just outside of her bedroom window when she finally speaks. "Raizo?" She says without turning to face him.

"Yes?"

He rolls onto his side and her eyes are closed, the back of her palms flat and open on either side of her torso like a corpse and he brings his hand to the small ridge of scar tissue between her breasts. Makes sure it's still rising and falling with her breath.

"You can talk to me." She says lowly. "You can tell me anything and I'd never judge you."

"There's nothing—"

"Don't," she cuts in, eyes open and glaring at him intensely. He thinks this is what _anger_ is supposed to look like. He sits back and listens.

"I would've let you get away with that a year ago or even a day ago but not tonight." She stops and takes a breath, pulls herself up into a seated position. "They found a dead woman in the second floor bathroom at the mall a few days ago. They said she'd been beaten but that nothing was stolen and she hadn't been raped. They're also saying that even though there are security cameras right outside the door, they don't show her or her attacker entering the bathroom." She quiets to let what she's trying to convey sink in. "You wouldn't know anything about that would you?"

He could say anything to Mika right now and make her believe it. He could tell her that he had no idea who the woman was, that one of his old contacts was angry and sent someone after them, that the woman was a random ninja that decided to come after him to build her name up. He could probably make himself believe it was one of those things but he'd fought the woman, had spoken to her—_We'll be seeing you…_— and he recognized the dead eyed resolve in her face. She had been on a suicide mission. This was more than a one off, it was a warning, and it should be more important than what Mika would think of him if she knew everything he'd been trying so hard to keep quiet.

He pushes the hair back from her forehead, uses his thumb to smooth the frown lines from her brow.

But it wasn't. "I don't know anything about it, Mika."

Her eyes get hard at that. She's learned to read him as well as he can read her and she knows he's lying. He waits for her to raise her voice, to stump from the room, to show him her displeasure but she only lays back down and turns away from him.

Raizo thinks about telling her everything just to share the burden sometimes.

He wants to tell her about being an orphan and how an employee there sold him to the clan, about the hours and hours of training, about getting cut and bruised and beaten to raise his pain threshold. About Kiriko and how she was the first person he ever loved. How she was sweet and giving and not born to the profession the way he had been. He wonders if she'd ever look at him the same way when she learned that he stood by while Kiriko was killed.

He could tell her that the other clans are not letting him off the hook for decimating the Ozunu clan. That they're going to kill them both and that she probably would've been spared if he'd left but that he made the decision for them both and stayed. Would she cry If he told her that there's no use in running? That they'll find them anywhere they go and that—sooner or  
later—they'll be caught.

His hand hovers over the puckered skin on her back, at the exact place where Ozunu's blade cleanly sliced through, before he lets it drop. Raizo's a pragmatic man, he knows she wouldn't stand a chance in a hand to hand fight with a ninja and he knows she'd try and be more involved with his efforts to protect them if she knew what was happening.

He rolls onto his back and stares at the play of shadows on the ceiling. When his desire to unload on her climbs up inside of him—clawing and burning and choking him with it's need to be free—he just pushes it back down and carries the heavy weight of it himself.

He can't ever tell her.

He _won't _ever tell her.

Even if it's what she wants, even if his silence will be the thing that eventually drives her away. He has to protect her at all costs. Even if it hurts.

This is how much he cares.


End file.
